


Adorable

by ImAnIdiot



Category: Supernatural
Genre: I Tried, Not Happy, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 03:44:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13627920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImAnIdiot/pseuds/ImAnIdiot
Summary: Many years ago, Dean Winchester thought himself rather adorable. Now, though, is a different story.





	Adorable

**Author's Note:**

> General warning that this is a short and not happy fic that takes place somewhere after Dean gets out of Hell

A long while ago, Dean Winchester was captured by the FBI. He told them he thought he was adorable with a cocky smirk on his face. Back then, he might have even believed it.

 

A lot has changed since then, though. He hasn’t smiled in weeks, laughed in more. He sits on the bed in the motel room and stares at his hands. He used to thinks his hands were nice, now he hates them, the things he’s done with his hands… He clenches them and scowls.

He tries to avoid mirrors lately. He thinks that if he stares too long someone will appear behind him. Occasionally, he even thinks his eyes turn black. Those days are not good. Those days, he fears he might not wake up in the morning.

Dean Winchester doesn’t think he’s very adorable, anymore, to be honest. Truth is, he’s never really thought himself very adorable. Lying, even then. He lies to everyone, now; to himself, to Sam, to Cas... 

He hates more, now, than he did then. He hates a lot of things. He hates Hell, hates Demons, Angels, Heaven… himself (his hands, his face, his body, his soul, his life)… He hates so much he’s not sure there’s room for much else. It makes it worse that there’s not much he can do about the hate. If Sam has the anger, he thinks, he has the hate. It keeps him going.

Sometimes his hate fades, though, and sadness replaces it. Those days are the worst. Sadness works differently than hate and fear do. The sadness aches in his chest like a deep weight, sinking in and crushing his heart with its hand; it kills a lot slower than knives and bullet wounds.

The days when the sadness comes make him want to cry, to lay in bed and stare at the ceiling, to never get up. On those days, he doesn’t want to wake up in the mornings; he just wants to sleep.

Sometimes, Free Will hurts more than he thinks it should, and he wishes he could go back to the days of thinking himself adorable.

He can’t.


End file.
